


Sex and Feelings

by venomousdanger



Category: WWE
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 09:22:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12528136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomousdanger/pseuds/venomousdanger
Summary: The Shield breakup is only part of Dean's breakdown.





	Sex and Feelings

Three hours. It was only three hours. He couldn’t go to the arena but Phil could make the drive from Chicago to Indianapolis for some actual face time. Waiting through the hours of Raw with the drive, he was able to walk up to the room without any knowledge of what happened within the company. Once he knocked, it was harder to ignore as a drained looking blond answered. “I drive for three hours and you’re not happy to see me?” The hurt he felt as the door was left open for him was pushed down; something was wrong. “You gonna tell me?” The little bottles were lined up from the mini bar but still full. The larger beer bottles on the floor were a different story. “Didn’t I tell you I was showing up? Why are you drinking?” His eyes scanned the room. “How’d you get the room to yourself?” Jon couldn’t handle the questions, shooting a glare at the tattooed one. “I booked it. I wanted to be alone. Didn’t you see what happened? The Shield’s over. They gave us some bullshit storyline and Seth’s getting a heel push and… everything… everything sucks.” The venting made it clear that alone time wasn’t what the younger man wanted. Sometimes it was easy to overlook just how fragile his puppy was. “That sucks. C'mere.” He sat on the bed and forced the other with him. Taking the gum from his mouth, it was place in Dean’s. “Chew. I’m not kissing a beer tap tonight.” The other began to chew through the mint while Punk continued to talk. “The company is screwed up. They do what they want to get their rocks off and if it ‘shakes things up’ they think it’ll always work in their favor.” It was a big deciding factor to walking when he did. “Speaking of getting off…” His lips climbed slowly up the blond’s neck to seek out the earring he’d sell his soul for.

Jon groaned with a crack of a whimper. It wasn’t exactly his normal needy whimper but it uncharacteristically fit him. It was sweet and broken with a little sense of hope. If it didn’t break his heart, he’d want a ringtone of it. The black lettering of ‘free’ was tangled in the drying strands in a sort of petting stroke. A path was pulled back down the pulsing flesh by his teeth. There was a light stubble challenging the smooth baby face appearance he had on screen. It was only suppose to be a playful little nip but licking over the skin was a teasing taste and soon a bite was placed over the shoulder well. The sexual side of his mind took over before he realized Dean had happily sighed and he was sucking at wet copper because the skin had broke. Letting the moment wash over him, he moaned against the raising drops pumping from the superstar’s heart. Cameras were hell in the business. Any marks left by relationships were 'requested’ to stay covered so Punk got some acupuncture lessons and Dean’s thicker vest usually covered it. Getting too lost in his head was always a downfall around Jon and tonight was no different as he was pushed back on the bed and the flavor was lost. The sadness had fell to anger in the blues looking at him. He loved the kicked puppy look on the kid but it was only one of many looks he had. And, as long as it wasn’t anger towards him, it was actually hot to see. So hot that he didn’t mind the zipper of his hoodie being torn off the chain or the short nails that clawed up his torso while his shirt was pushed up.

The glowing red lines formed from the 'straight edge’ ink to rake upwards to the responsive nipples. The tattoos and the emotional pain Dean had been feeling came out with another claw down the unchanged body. Punk might have said he was doing something with the time off but there was no visible changes from the last time they were together. Part of Dean hated him or that but most of him needed something constant to help stabilize his world. Tears burned his eyes before they were hidden with a duck of his head. Eye level with the 'vomit wave from the skull’ tattoo; Dean smirked. Voicing the thought on the design cost him the front seat a few years ago but after being happy to nap in the back, the design flaw had been mentioned without consequences. Maybe Punk noticed how much the kid liked it.

-Flashback- Sitting at lunch with Paul and Colby, the two were talking about being a 'street mutt’. It hadn’t been an argument because they were laughing as they threw insults at each other. Leaving Seth to wonder and Paul to a call. “If people only heard you two- they’d think you would end up killing each other.” At the time, Seth pushed back his blond patch. “I may be a street mutt but he loves me.” Phil looked up at the words with a shrug. “I like the earring, the face just came as a package deal.” Dean smiled. “I like the puking skull and got stuck with the body.” They were minor details but said everything about their relationships. It wasn’t about money or fame- they liked the little things that made the other who he was.

Dean licked down the surfaced blood begging to escape until he reached the jeans. “What happened to me being in charge?” Light brown eyes glanced down in question. Without a word, the street dog undid the button. “You could’ve said you wanted the lead. I don’t mind letting you do the work.” The casual attitude struck a nerve with Jon. Now the man had learned to go with the flow? He couldn’t have known that lesson four months ago? Fed up with it, his knees trapped the other’s hips as he sat on against on Phil’s thighs. His palms were press hard along the Chicagoan’s chest until a his attention was back on the pecs. Pinching sweetly soon turned rough as his wrist was turned. It would have been painful but sadomasochism was common ground for their relationship. “That long drive tire you out, old man?” Punk’s back arched a little higher out of strategy as his hand wrapped around Ambrose’s arm to force him on the bed. “Not too tired to best you, kid.” Jon rolled his eyes before leaning up on an elbow only to be pushed back down. Blues sparked downwards to where Punk’s hands were finishing the job of undoing his pants. “Say it, Ambrose.” His cock was pulled out. “Tell me I’m still the best in the world.” Dean licked his lips and tried to turn over to his stomach. “Say it.” Jon started with his own jeans. “Prove you are.” The challenge was made. Thankfully, he was able to undo his pants before he spoke. Feeling an arm press against his neck and a hand grab the back of his jeans, the blond lifted his hips in anticipation of the pull at them that followed.

Feeling the hands on him was nothing compared to the scruff scrapping against the back of his thighs as Punk ran his tongue slowly over his hole. "Fuck you. You're taking too long." Phil stopped and knelt up from his work. "I'm trying to be loving, prick." Jon rolled his stomach up and his ass back impatiently. "If I wanted loving, I would have done it myself and finished with a mouthful of Skittles." The Chicagoan shook his head before spitting down at the puckered opening. "Next time you're expecting me to rim you, I'm gonna remind you were were too much of a brat to have me do it now." As he spoke, his knees dipped into the bed between Dean's legs. "Anyone tell you you talk too much?" The head of his cock was held against the glob of saliva. "Everyday of my life." Pushing past the resistance, Dean's body immediately gave to the slightly lighter weight of Punk's. A happy huff escaped the blond. 

The first couple of thrusts were used as a trap to get Jon to react. It was little things to start with. There was more of an effort to look back. Then a hand reached back to try to pull Phil closer against him. The counterattack to being grabbed at was the artful hands pinning the lunatic's touch to the bed. "Ambrose..." A displeased tone didn't completely conceal the sex clinging from it. Knowing it was getting to Punk more than he ever wanted to let on, Dean jerked his hips in rhythm to meet back against Phil. The speed was about to earn the younger one a some of the control when the designed fingers met on Jon's lower back. Pushing the Superstar to the mattress, the free talent slowed to an agonizing pace. "What'd I just say?" The pelvis wiggled to get free but the action worked against him causing the momentary sub to drop his head with a whimper. Still didn't stop him from being a smart ass. "My stage name?" A deep laugh gave the Ohioan a pass and the pace picked up again. 

-Skip because writing sex scenes by yourself gets repetitive and boring-

As the moans and grunts continued, Punk's thrust became more erratic and they both knew he was close. Bringing a knee to the outside of Dean's body, his position twisted enough to plunge a little deeper. "FUCK!" Dean's hand was free to dig into the knee along his side. The warmth was in volumes both inside him and angled on his stomach as they both came. Dry spasms and chest heaving, Punk dropped to the bed to reach for his shirt. "It's like I'm being punished." As happy as Jon looked, he sounded that sad. "Huh?" A clothed fist stroked down his cock to clean himself but he stopped at the vocalized feelings. "You left, they're taking away The Shield, everything's different. They didn't even give me time." The fabric was laid over his thigh and an arm brought the other form in a hug. He hadn't thought about it. When Dean had started complaining, Punk figured it was all work. Though when he thought through it, The Shield hadn't even been on the main roster for 500 days before he left the company. And now, 127 days later- the kid was losing all of his comfort zones. "I'm sorry." Dean smiled and cuddled closer. "I get it. It's not okay and I'm not gonna say I'm fine with it but I get it."


End file.
